the better tribute
by skylands
Summary: Cato versus her, until the end. And it looks like Cato won.


**written for the prompt 'knife' / the weapons challenge / caesar's palace  
**

**not my best work, sorry.  
**

* * *

She watches as the boy tries to get a firm grasp on the knife with his large, meaty hands and smirks to herself. The Games need real players. Not overgrown, brainless idiots who don't know how to hold a knife. Only to show off, she chooses a small, sleek knife. It's small in size, like her but it also has a sharp edge that would draw blood at the slightest touch. She draws her hand back taking aim. His eyes fall on her, interested to see what she can do. She lets the blade fly, knowing that it will hit the center of the bulls eye. It doesn't, however, veering ever so slightly to the left but it's still a good shot. She turns to him again and their eyes meet. He has a leering smile on his face as he says, "not bad at all. What's your name?"

Her eyebrows raise. Who is he to tell her that she wasn't bad? Of course she wasn't. She was great. "Clove," she replies with a smile she hopes is equally uncaring.

"I'm Cato," he says, thrusting his hand forward. "Care to give me some lessons?"

And so it begins. They don't interact too much at first; she teaches him how to throw a knife and he teaches her how to gut someone with a sword. She quickly learns that he's not as powerless or brainless as she thought he was. It's a different set up than usual (allies are a given, but friends are dangerous) but if the trainers have any objections, they stay out of it. Day by day, they grow closer. Their smiles become slightly more genuine, the tips they share actually help and when they wish each other luck, it doesn't always mean the opposite.

Clove sees it as harmless flirting. Never has the thought of a husband or children entered her brain. She knows what she wants. She's going to in the games, become rich and lead a comfortable life. She's going to come back, teach others her skills and mentor more victors. She knows she's not the best. There are people who play with knives far more easily, who treat her as if she's a child even though they're the same age. But Clove knows that the one thing they lack is brains. And she's the best mixture of power and intelligence around.

The day of the reaping is humid, with the sun beating down on the mercilessly. A small grin spreads on Clove's face when the escort calls out her name. No one volunteers. They have faith in her, faith in her ability to win. She nods once at the crowd. Whereas the first grin was for the Capitol to see, this simple nod holds much more meaning. _I will not fail you. I will not disappoint you. District 2 will win the seventy fourth Hunger Games._

The boy reaped is not anyone she's ever seen before. Not at school, not during training. He doesn't step forward, waiting like everyone for someone to volunteer. Clove's eyebrows rise in surprise as she sees Cato stepping forward.

The smile he gives her is the same one as their first day in the training center. _Let's see who's better, Clove. Let's settle it once and for all._

* * *

"Cato!" She screams, desperately trying to crawl away from Thresh. She doesn't care about the Capitol, she doesn't care about her district, _she's just a little girl who doesn't want to die. _"CATO!" She screams again. Why isn't he coming? He was supposed to be on guard. Maybe he can't. Or maybe he won't. This is what it was all about in the end, isn't it? Cato versus her, until the end. And it looks like Cato won.

"Clove!" She hears his voice, calling out for her, but he's so far away. He won't be able to reach in time. Thresh looks up at the sound of Cato's voice and seems to realize that he's running out of time. He looks into her eyes for a fleeting moment, and then raises the rock, bringing it down hard on her temple. She sees it coming but there's nothing she can do. Pain floods into her body, making everything else go away. She gasps for breath as dark spots appear in her vision. She can still hear Cato howling her name. She's glad he's not her. His smirk is not the last thing she wants to see.

Instead, Clove's eyes find the knife she had been planning to use to kill Katniss. It's gotten impaled in the ground. She always used to compare herself to knives. _Knives may be small, but they're sharp. Don't underestimate me. I may look small in size but I can kill you in twenty different ways. _She finds it ironic that she's lying here, dying, all because of a brute with a rock.

As Clove takes her final breaths, her vision blurs, and she can swear that the knife doesn't look as sharp as before.


End file.
